“Sage. Interesting. Are you going to take her home to cleanse your apartment of evil spirits? Isn’t that what they use sage for?”
“Not sure, but I’m pretty sure if you ever came over, all the spirits would come out to dance instead.”
“You’re probably right. I’d have the opposite effect of sage.”
“You and your snake.” He snickered. “Holy crap, that’s funny. I’m not going to be able to stop thinking about that shit tonight.”
“Don’t remind me. I still have to wash the slime off my neck.” I sighed. “Well…anyway, have fun.”
“I’ll try.”
I was literally pouting. “Tell Sage I said ‘hello.’”
After we hung up, I suddenly felt very alone. A surge of enormous jealousy shot through me.
In the shower, my thoughts were racing. I wanted to be the one going out with Landon tonight. I wished so badly that I could touch him, smell him, kiss him. I yearned to actually feel the vibration of his laughter against my skin.
You can’t have it all, Rana. You can’t hide yourself from him and want him for yourself.
It’s inevitable. You’re going to lose him.
That thought made me incredibly sad.
I was starting to realize that I had really been in denial. I was head over heels for this man, the way he made me laugh, the way he appreciated my oddities, the way he really seemed to know my soul, even if I’d done everything to hide what’s on the outside. Thoughts of him had invaded my every waking moment from the very first night I’d called him—and honestly, long before that.
As scared as I was to remove the barrier between us, I ached for more.
After lying down in silence for a while, I ventured over to my closet and opened one of the old notes.
Rana Banana,
Why do you always look away when you catch me staring at you? Sometimes, I’m trying to send you telepathic messages and you totally ruin it.
Landon
P.S. You haven’t started barking like a dog, so I’m guessing you didn’t get my last command.
That one really made me laugh as I refolded it and put it back in the bag.
For the first time since the night he’d sent it, I allowed myself to look at the selfie of Landon stored in my phone. As rough as his exterior was, his smile was so genuine, comforting. It was directed at me, and I didn’t feel deserving of it. Even his eyes were smiling—his very non-crazy eyes. Tonight that smile was reserved for someone else, because I’d chosen not to accept what he’d given me.
I ran my finger along the image. He had put himself out there, and I hadn’t been willing to give him an iota back, all because I was afraid of what I would have to admit to him. I assumed he would judge me, but in reality, no one could ever judge me the way I judged myself.
I couldn’t give him everything. But I wanted to give him something. It would have to be baby steps.
My heart was pounding through my chest, and I was shaking, because I knew what I was about to do.
Positioning my body on a chair, I straddled it with my back facing the oval mirror. My black hair was cascading down my shirtless back in waves. It fell all the way to my ass.
I took several photos of my back until I was completely satisfied with one of them. I was careful to make sure that you couldn’t see my face at all.
What I settled on was an incredibly sexy, provocative shot. The boy shorts I was wearing left nothing to the imagination. You could see the shape of my ass very clearly along with the arch of my back and my legs. I’d also put on the highest stilettos I owned. If I was really going to take this step, I was going to do it right.
Shutting my eyes tightly, I braced myself before hitting send.
After I pressed the button, a rush of blood travelled to my head. A plethora of paranoid thoughts were floating around in my mind.
He was on a date. What if he showed it to her, and they both laughed at me?
What if he thought I looked like a slut?
What if he hated it?
A couple of torturous minutes passed before my phone chimed, interrupting the chain of internal questions.
I took a deep breath and checked it.
Landon: Why did you just send me a picture of Kim Kardashian? I mean it’s sexy as all hell, but random.
Oh, my God. What?
Did he think it was a joke?
Does he not realize it’s me?
My fingers hovered over the keypad before I finally typed.
Rana: That’s not Kim Kardashian. It’s me.
There was no response for several minutes. I felt like digging a hole in the ground and burying myself. Why did I send him that? Why did I let my jealous ego override sensibility?
Sitting on my bed with my head in my hands and my knees to my chest, I cursed at myself.
When my phone started to ring, I pondered whether I should pick up. I opted to let it go to voicemail.
When it started ringing a second time, I took a deep breath and answered, “Hi.”
“Rana, you have got to be shitting me.”
I played dumb. “What?”
“You’re supposed to look like a boy with a unibrow, not like my fucking wet dream. I’d been thinking about you all damn day as it was. Now, I’ll never get you out of my mind. This is sort of fucking me up right now.”
“Kim Kardashian is your wet dream?”
“No. Never mind her. Honestly, I looked at it so fast, and I was in a dark movie theater. Now that I’ve had a chance to really examine it, I can tell it’s not her. The long, black hair threw me off for a bit.” He paused. “But it does look like a lingerie model. God…this is really you?”
“Yes. You think I’m punking you? It’s me.”
“Wow.” He let out a long breath. “Why would you ever be ashamed to show me what you look like, then?”
There was no way I was tackling that question.
Ignoring it, I asked, “Where are you right now?”
“I told Sage I had an emergency and excused myself. Once I realized you weren’t kidding around, it hit me how monumental this was, that you’d sent a picture of yourself, something you vowed you’d never do. I wasn’t going to waste the moment. I needed to be alone. I’m in my car.”
“You left her?”
“She’s still in the theater, yeah.”
Even though I sounded surprised, that gave me great pleasure. “Shouldn’t you get back to her?”
“You’re asking that like you didn’t know I was on a date when you sent the photo. You knew I would see what you looked like and lose my mind. I’m sitting in my car alone with a fucking stiffy because you just sent me a picture of your beautiful ass barely covered. You know full well what you’re doing, Rana Saloomi. I’m more convinced of that now than ever. You’re totally messing with me—teasing me. Admit it.”
I laughed a little. “Are you mad?”
“I fucking love it.”
My cheeks felt hot. “Do you really think about me all day?”